Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
jade
Trepidation fills me as soon I wake up. I open my eyes to Reeve’s sun-splashed bedroom, remembering why I feel this way: because I did what I swore I wouldn’t do with the one guy I swore I’d never give in to. And now I have to pay for it.
When I roll over amid the tangle of his soft cotton sheets, he’s not there.
Good. I’m not ready to see the look on his face that tells me I’m just another of his conquests.
Actually, I can’t imagine anything worse in this moment than looking into his eyes and not finding that sparkle that’s there every time he looks back at me.
I’m gathering my discarded clothes when the door opens and Reeve walks in wearing nothing but a low-slung pair of basketball shorts. My eyes zero in on his naked chest. Oh, right. That’s why I did what I swore I wouldn’t last night. And why I’d do it all again.
“Morning,” he greets me. Something beyond relief floods me when I look into his eyes and see nothing in them has changed.
“Hey.” I reach for my jeans near the door.
“Sorry you had to wake up alone. Coffee?” He holds out a steaming mug.
“Thanks. I don’t drink coffee, actually.”
He nods and sits on the edge of the bed while I turn my clothes outside in and try to think of something to say.
For once, I’m at a loss for words. I’ve joked my way through many an awkward morning after, but this is new territory.
This is my enemy-turned-friend who just gave me the best sex of my life.
Normally I’d be focused on trying to get out the door with as little conversation as possible, but I’m anxious to know what’s on Reeve’s mind.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Of course. I’m fine.”
“I mean about what happened last night.”
“Totally. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“’Cause you seem pretty eager to escape.”
“I thought you’d want me out of here before Cam wakes up.”
“He’s already got his suspicions. Might as well confirm them. Besides, not like you’re not ready to run home and tell Lenni everything.”
“I won’t tell her if you don’t want me to.”
Reeve reaches for my hand and draws me close so I’m standing in front of him. “I wouldn’t ask you to lie to your best friend. I mean, they’ll find out sooner or later; you know, if we make this a regular thing.”
“A regular thing. What does that mean?”
He’s still holding on to my hand. I’m filled with trepidation as I wait for him to answer, but I don’t know what I’m afraid of. “It means I want you in my bed as many nights as I can get you. And in my shower. And my floor. And the back seat of my Bronco. What do you say to that?”
Yes, I think happily. He wants the same thing I do—more of this. More of us. “I’d say a regular thing sounds pretty fun with you.”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “It will be. I promise.”
I shouldn’t skip my morning Spanish class, but I do.
Reeve assures me I’ll learn a lot more lying in bed with him for an hour, and he’s right.
By the time he’s done tracing every contour of my body with his fingertips, I know all the dirty words—and a few proper ones—for the parts of the anatomy they never mention in Spanish class.
He runs out to grab us some breakfast but quickly returns, asking for my car keys.
“My Bronco’s not having it this morning,” he explains before heading out again.
While he’s gone, I freshen up in the bathroom and then slide back into the comfort of his bed.
I’m lying on his pillow and shamelessly breathing in his scent when I catch sight of something sparkling on the bedside table: my red earring.
I have to close my eyes against the surge of happiness that comes over me.
Reeve’s back twenty minutes later with two breakfast sandwiches, a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows for me—“What do people drink in the morning if not coffee?” is his explanation—and Jeeve tucked under his arm.
“Jeeve was looking good on the dash of your car out there. Good thing the Bronco was acting up, otherwise someone might’ve come along and smashed in your window to make a grab for him.”
“Yeah, he’s really tempting, isn’t he?” I say, wiping a drop of hot chocolate off the penguin’s shoddily stitched face. “If you need to take your car into a mechanic, I can give you a ride back to campus afterward.”
“Nah, she’s fine. I might waste an hour or two of my time, but I can usually get her going.”
“You ever think about selling it and getting something more reliable? I have a few friends graduating in December who are selling their cars cheap.”
He shakes his head quickly. “I’m not selling it. My dad left it for me.”
“I thought you barely knew your dad.”
“That’s right.” He meets my eye for only a second, but I recognize the same look I saw up on the library roof when he first told me about his father.
It’s longing. That’s what I couldn’t identify in him back then.
Amazing to think that was only a few weeks ago and how deeply my opinion of him has evolved.
The funny and sexy remains, but back then I found him hopelessly shallow.
Now he surprises me at every turn with the depth of feeling that his eyes alone can express.
What more could I find out about him if I stuck around a little longer?
I sit behind him on the bed and slide my hands under his T-shirt. His back is a wall of smooth muscle under my hands. I do it to soothe him, but I relax instantly at the feel of his body.
He stretches his neck slowly from side to side, then angles his body so he can see me. “What are you doing Saturday afternoon?”
“I don’t know, what did you have in mind? Afternoon delight?”
“No, my football game.”
“Oh.”
He shakes his head. “You might be the only person in this entire town that doesn’t immediately associate fall weekends with football.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself to maintain your ego.”
He bares his teeth at me like an animal. “You shit-talker.” My reflexes are fast, but his are faster, and before I can jump off the bed, he lunges and pins me to the tangle of sheets and blankets. I squeal, but my arms are as good as useless.
“I’m stronger than you think,” I warn him.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Kneecaps of steel. And I’m not afraid to use them.” I grin and position my knee to take aim at his balls, but in one smooth move he closes his thighs around my legs, locking me into a vise grip. I try to jerk my arms free again, frustrated and massively turned on by his strength.
He leans over me, loosening his hold a little.
“By the way,” he murmurs against my ear, “after last night, I know you’re ticklish.
” He’s breathing harder than I realized, and the sound of it pulls me straight back into hot memories of our night—his panting breaths, the throaty sound of his voice when he said my name.
“I’m not ticklish,” I lie.
His eyebrows go up. The ring of his fingers moves slowly from my wrist down to my elbow. It’s innocent but not. My nipples harden as he glides over my biceps, my body tensing when he approaches my shoulder because, yes, I’m very ticklish.
“Okay, I give in,” I say through my laughter when he finally reaches my underarm. “No more. What do you want?”
He withdraws his hands and sits back so he’s on my hips. I watch his perfect, chiseled chest rise and fall with each breath. I can’t help reaching out to touch the swells of muscle. “What do I want? I want to know where you’ll be Saturday.”
“Where do you want me to be?”
“In the stands.” The playfulness has evaporated from the room. I’m still trapped under him, but the way his eyes watch me, imploring, I’m the one with the power here, and for the first time, I don’t think I like it. It reminds me of everything that was wrong with me and Sam.
“I thought you weren’t playing,” I say carefully.
“I’m not starting. That’s different.”
I nod. “Just remember I don’t know anything about football. I can’t offer much in the way of compliments.”
“That’s why I want you there.”
“Hmm?”
He lets out a deep breath. “I want you there for me. Not for the game or to talk about the plays I make.”
Something tugs inside my heart. I long to be what he needs. “I’m there,” I pledge.
I watch the little worry line on his forehead smooth out, and my heart fills at the sight, and I wonder if this might be our peak. Surely it can only go downhill from here, because this feels so damn good.
It’s too soon to ask the questions I want to ask him: Do you feel what I feel?
Is it me you need or could it be any girl?
And it’s too soon to ask the questions I want to ask myself: Am I only fooling myself or does this go beyond laughter and insane attraction and amazing sex?
Is this deep connection I feel with him real?
Luckily, Reeve makes it easy to find distractions from the questions that sift through a girl’s brain.
I unclasp my bra and let it fall open, watching his eyes darken with desire, then take his hand and slide one finger into my mouth.
He sucks in a breath through his teeth, and his free hand squeezes my thigh.
Then I guide his wet finger to my breast and circle it around my nipple.
I smile up at him and let him finish what I started.